


(No We're Not) Friends

by jj_writes (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Pining, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jj_writes
Summary: Straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he's fallen in love with him.





	(No We're Not) Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this amazing article: http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/straight-guy-worries-hes-homophobic-gay-roommate-ends-falling-love/#gs.null

"Hey, Phil, did you happen to pick up any-"

I pause, letting the words that were previously ready to tumble out stall and hide just behind my teeth. I'm not quite sure what I was expecting to see when I walked into the lounge, but it most definitely was not this. Two bodies, nearly on top of each other, attached at the lips. Phil pulls back away from the man he was formerly kissing swiftly, looking up to address me with rosy cheeks and bashful eyes. My mind goes blank, my face hot in embarrassment as I'm left speechless. The swooping sensation in my stomach that warns me of vomit is on the brink of erupting, and it takes all of my willpower not to escape the situation before anything worse than the uncomfortable silence happens. I'm certain that everyone in the room is blushing when Phil raises an eyebrow and even his friend turns to gaze at me.

"Di- did you pick up any milk?" I try again once my brain decides to function, attempting at normalcy and acting like the entire situation isn't completely and utterly awkward. The mere seconds between my question and Phil's response is still agonizingly long, leaving me to shift from my left foot to my right, back again. 

He gives me a small, shaky smile and makes an effort to nonchalantly scoot away from... whoever the other guy is. "Yeah," Phil replies, glancing at the floor before adding on. "Sorry, I... didn't think you'd be home yet. This is Evan."

Evan gives a small little wave. I briefly register his blonde hair, blue eyed face. I look at him for all of a second before looking back at Phil.

"Sorry for intruding. I'll be in my room."

I turn on my heel and resist the urge to run out of the room, heart racing. I don't understand why I was so embarrassed to walk in on them. I mean, they were just kissing; it's not as if they were in the middle of a fuck-fest. I've known that Phil was gay since the very first day we moved in together, and it's never bothered me before. I'm ashamed at such an overreaction, and even when I'm back in my room with headphones blaring music into my ears, I genuinely can't tell if I'm more disgusted with Phil and his lover, or myself.

~~~

I'm really starting to despise my feelings towards Phil. It's not his fault, really, it's all mine. He didn't do anything wrong; I'm the one at fault here. I'm the one that is disgusted by who he sleeps with.

I'm not homophobic. Really, I'm not. I can't be! I mean, my next door neighbors as a kid were two men and their daughter. The day that Chloe moved in, I asked her why she had two dads. She just shrugged and said, "I always have." It was very normal for me and I had never questioned it, and when we had Chloe and her two dads, Grant and James, over for dinner that night, my parents treated them with just as much respect and friendliness as any of our other neighbors. My best friend in high school, Maggie, was gay. I think that the better chunk of our friendship was discussing girl problems and attending parties to find cute girls to hook up with. I definitely wasn't raised to discriminate against others, regardless of the reason. So, there's no way that I hate gay people, or anyone else in that community for that matter.

But even so, every time Phil comes home with a new boy, I just feel so... repulsed. Ever since Evan, I've been so uncomfortable whenever he brings someone home. I've never felt like that before, especially not towards someone I'm so close with. These emotions only started a few weeks ago and I don't understand them in the slightest. I'm beginning to loathe myself for having such an awful opinion on things. 

I think Phil's starting to notice how I feel. The past couple of times, right before I've slipped off into my room to hide, he's given me this look. It's as if he's looking right through me, reading my thoughts and knowing exactly what I'm thinking. It's unnerving, to be honest, and I'm terrified that he's going to kick me out of the apartment.

The reason I've spiraled down this particular train of thought is because I'm at my door, preparing to enter the apartment. I hope that Phil is alone.

My hopes are shattered when I hear Phil's laughter as I open the door, presumably in response to another person's comment. I put the drink I had been holding on a table as I venture deeper into the flat, my thoughts being confirmed when I'm faced with my roommate and his current conquest. They're both standing and I assume it's because the other man is preparing to leave. They both turn towards me and Phil lifts a hand in welcome.

"Hey, Dan."

This is usually the part where I reply with some half-assed greeting and run off to my room, but today is different. For some reason, I'm agitated at the entire situation. I say nothing to Phil, just flick my eyes up to him and then instead over to the plus one in the room.

"Hi, I'm Sebastian," the man says, stepping forward to shake my hand. "Phil's told me all about you."

I put on an angelic smile when I respond, not even bothering to look him in the eyes but instead past him to Phil. "I wish I could say the same for you," I say, shaking his hand briefly. "I won't see you around."

I drop his hand quickly and step past him, brushing his shoulder with my own as I stride into the lounge. I don't let the feeling of regret seep into me, just sink into the couch and take out my phone as a distraction. It's all of a minute when I hear the front door click and Phil storm into the room.

"Why are you being such an asshole?" he accuses, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at me from his position in front of the couch. I toss my phone to the side, and a snarky reply forms in my mouth. I glance up, but when I see how upset he is, the words die in my throat.

"Do you have a problem with me sleeping with guys?"

This follow up question hits me hard, and there's no way that Phil doesn't see my scandalized expression. He thinks I have a problem with him being gay? The thought itself kills any anger that I had prior to the inquisition, and with wide eyes I reply, "What? No, of course not, Phil."

This doesn't seem to soothe him in the slightest, and he scoffs angrily as he steps away from me. I watch him with dread as he approaches the far side of the lounge, wanting to speak up but not having a clue what to say. He doesn't leave, however, instead turns back towards me and crosses his arms.

"You don't even have the right to complain," he informs me through narrowed eyes. "You and Jenny fucked for months when you first moved in, and I didn't say shit about that!"

When he brings up Jenny, I know I've really messed up. Jenny and I were friends with benefits for almost a year, but after a few months of moving into this apartment I broke it off with her. I get up to try to cool the situation, approaching the other slowly. Phil is positively fuming, and I put on my best sympathetic face.

"I know, you're right," I agree, only a few feet away from him now. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, just looks at me. I sincerely hope he doesn't think I'm homophobic, the last thing I want is for him to think his closest friend hates him for his sexuality. As the quiet continues on in an unbroken silence, Phil just looks at me with something like disappointment brewing in his usually bright blue eyes. I almost wish he would scream at me or hit me; anything would hurt less than the wounded expression adorning his face.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, softer now. "I'm just having a bad day. I don't care who you sleep with."

For some reason, this does absolutely nothing to mend the situation, and he just shakes his head with a sigh. "I'm going to a friend's house."

I don't even dare to argue, especially when he's still looking at me like I just murdered his family. "Okay," I mumble, defeated. My head hangs and I look up at him through my eyelashes to watch him move towards the door. He surprises me when he stops, and I look up, hoping that he's changed his mind. Instead, he looks even madder than before, almost malicious with the look on his face.

"It's okay if I fuck him as long as it's not here at our place, right?" he sneers.

A soft gasp escapes my lips, and I can say nothing as he slips away from me. I watch him stride right back through the door and even when I can't see him anymore, I continue staring until I hear the front door shut again. The comment he had made before immediately doesn't sit well with me, and I fall back onto the couch with a distressed whimper. Regardless of what I did and said, I never would have thought he would be that irate. My emotions should have never mattered before his; it's my fault that my own discrimination and judgement have been slowly pushing us apart over the past few weeks. I never should have treated Sebastian with so much disrespect; I have no right to dictate what Phil does, it's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. I know he's probably well on his way to Pj's, but I find it might be best to just let him cool off. Besides, him, Louise, and I are all planning to have a movie night tonight and she's coming over at 6. That's nearly four hours away from right now; there's no way that he would just blow that off because I was being a dick... right?

With another drawn-out sigh, I pull myself up off the couch and stop overthinking everything. Instead, I opt to just put on music and start cleaning the apartment to take my mind off of things. I'm in the middle of scrubbing the last counter in the kitchen when there's a knock on the door. I glance up at the clock, and sure enough, it's 6 o'clock. I give the counter one last sweep and throw the sponge in the sink, leaving the kitchen and going towards the door. Everything in the apartment is clean, and it successfully distracted me for a few hours. Well, everything in the apartment is clean besides Phil's room, of course. I've already done enough today, and I really don't want to have to add invading privacy to that list too.

I plaster a smile on my face and open the door, where Louise is rocking on the balls of her feet. She smiles as soon as she sees me, shouting my name in greeting and lurching forward to hug me. I grunt as she collides with my chest, stumbling us both backwards as I scramble to regain my footing.

"Hello to you too," I wheeze, wrapping my arms around the older girl and patting her back softly. Louise's response is simply to hug me tighter, now moving us side to side with a gleeful squeal. As much as the exchange has turned my fake smile into a genuine one, I really cannot breathe. I relay that information to her, and she steps back with a laugh.

"Sorry, I can't help it!" she giggles happily, looking me up and down and clasping her hands together. "We haven't hung out in, well, forever!"

I agree and add on an apology, leading her into the lounge and setting her on the couch. She looks around and back at me, and before she even says anything I know exactly what she's about to ask.

"Where's Phil?"

My smile is definitely fake, and I grin at her sweetly as I respond, "He stepped out. He should be back."

However, as I'm making the popcorn and getting us drinks, Phil doesn't come back. Even when Louise and I decide on a movie, Phil doesn't come back. In fact, when it's late enough to the point in which we've watched two movies and Louise decides to go home, Phil is still not back.

I don't have the right to be upset, but I am. In any case, it's my fault that he left in the first place. I try staying up to see if he eventually comes back, but suddenly it's 10 o'clock in the morning and I have a stiff neck from passing out on the arm of the couch.

With a groan, I open my eyes and see a fresh mug of coffee on the table. I stare incredulously at it; there is no way he made that for me after the events of yesterday. I'm still trying to process what it means and blinking the sleep out of my eyes when the man of my concerns and guilts walks into the lounge. He swoops down and picks up the coffee in one hand, opting to sit on the chair rather than the space at the edge of the couch. At this movement, I sit up, rubbing my eyes and looking over at him.

"Hi?" I try to greet, but it comes out as more of a question that anything. Phil just hums, taking a sip of his coffee as he channel surfs on the tv. I know he must see how bewildered I am, even though he's not even bothering to look at me.

"Where were you last night?" I try again. He doesn't reply for a second, deliberately taking a drink to postpone his inevitable reply. His response is nothing too fancy, just a mumbled, "Pj's," that I can barely make out. I open my mouth to ask another dumb question in a last-ditch attempt to get him to talk to me, when he breaks his silence and finally looks at me.

"Wanna start a new anime?"

I'm taken aback, my jaw opening and closing as I struggle to figure out his intentions. As I flicker between his eyes, all I see is a genuine question and a glimmer of pleading. It's blatantly obvious he doesn't want to talk about yesterday, so with a defeated sigh I nod and mumble back, "Sure," as an added measure.

He gives a formal nod back and picks up the remote, putting on a show neither of us have seen before and playing it. I glance back at him a few minutes into the episode, but even his body language is telling me to drop it. With an internal sigh, I do just that.

~~~

To: Louise  
Lunch date today?

A few weeks after our last failed movie night, I decide to reach out to one of my oldest friends once again. I hope it's not a bad day, because I desperately need to talk to someone that I don't have unbearable tension with. The urge to get things off my chest is terrible, and I don't think I can stand another day bottling up my emotions without having a mental breakdown or something. When she doesn't reply within a few minutes, I get antsy, adding in another text.

To: Louise  
Pls. it's important ;p

I don't say that just to get her attention, it really is the truth. After the incident, Phil and I have been dancing on light feet around each other. He still brings guys over (and I'm ashamed to say I'm just as disgusted with the thought of him having sex with each and every one of them) but he's much more careful to keep them far away from me. We still talk and hang out, but I think we're both expecting the other to snap at any given moment. Lately, though, we've been making small talk. Today, we had a conversation about football, when neither of us have any interest in sports. Honestly, if I took a knife to the air in the flat, it would bleed from how thick the tension is. I only realize I'm frowning when a sudden ping from my phone pulls me out of my thoughts, and I hastily open the notification.

From: Louise  
Sure. My break starts at 1:10. Usual?

Despite how little we've been able to hang recently, Louise and I do have a usual place that we used to go to that's very close to her work. I send back a quick confirmation text, anxiously awaiting the meeting due to happen in a little under two hours. Until then, however, I'm stuck in my current confinement. Regardless of the fact that both Phil and I are locked in our rooms, we're both so tense that the thin walls separating us do nothing at all. Neither of us are mad at each other, per say, more so just uncertain of where we stand with each other. It's rocky terrain, both terrified to move towards each other lest there be a sudden avalanche from the other side. Even distracting myself has proven to be difficult; despite the various social media sites and dozens of shows and movies to watch, nothing can satisfy me long enough to let me stop feeling bitter and unreasonably guilty over my own difficulties. All-in-all, regardless of how you view the situation, the entire problem is based on me.

And I just want to find the solution, whatever it may be.

I had never, ever though of myself as a judgmental person before I moved in with Phil. In fact, the feelings I've been having only sprouted a few months ago. I don't know what's worse; being biased due to complete ignorance, or being educated yet still having the same opinion. The last thing I want to do is admit to being homophobic, but I don't really know what else to call the emotion I feel when Phil sleeps with another guy. Ugh, the images themselves sends shivers down my spine; my imagination is definitely running wild. 

I try to shake the thoughts out of my head by getting up off the bed and stretching, deciding to start getting ready even though I don't need to leave for another hour. I make my way towards the door leading to the rest of the world, opening it slightly before pausing and listening to any noise that may or may not be my roommate. After a few beats of silence I slip out into the hallway, even resorting to the most childish action of tiptoeing as to not make any sound.

I get to the bathroom unnoticed, letting out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and then sighing at my own stupidity once I shut the door. I'm acting like a grounded teenager sneaking out to go to a party rather than a grown adult afraid of being confronted by his roommate. As I strip I realize that Phil will definitely hear the water running, and elect to listen to music whilst I shower. It's not like it'll make him notice me any less, right? I'm going to be having a really long conversation about the man himself in a short while, so I opt to forget about him for now and instead just sing along to some songs while I clean up.

I'm softly humming to the music still quietly playing from the phone in my hand when I leave the bathroom. I'm so absorbed in mouthing the lyrics that I barely register the mass in front of me when it suddenly appears out of thin air, blocking my path and making me stumble backwards. A quick glance up and I groan internally at Phil who looks at me with a curious expression. I'm about to say something sassy before he hinders my good mood, but he beats me to it.

"Interesting outfit choice," he says slowly, cocking an eyebrow. I search his face for a moment to detect any harshness, but the three words sounded more intrigued than anything. I glance back down and groan externally this time, realizing that I'm wearing absolutely nothing but a towel. To be quite honest, I'm not sure if I go absolutely pale or obnoxiously red but either way a mix of hot-cold embarrassment floods my face. Despite how much I would rather sink into the ground and suffocate, I force my eyes back up to Phil's, which are lighting up in amusement. Anything sassy that I could say wouldn't be worth losing the boyish light in his bright blues. Instead I opt for a squeaky, "Thanks," as I look at the floor and brush past him. I all but run to my bedroom, rushing in and shutting the door harder than I need to. It takes me quite a few minutes to calm down from the awkward encounter enough to the point where I can finish getting ready. I don't even bother taking my time to pick an outfit or straightening my hair as I usually do. I throw on something random; anything to get out of this house as soon as possible.

I'm not even embarrassed to admit that I repeat my earlier routine of checking for signs of life outside my bedroom, even pressing my ear against the wood to alleviate some of the anxiety brewing in my stomach. When the coast is clear, I fly out of my room and towards the front door. After checking to make sure I have the proper necessities for an outing and sliding on some shoes, I successfully make my escape. I still have over forty-five minutes until I meet Louise, so rather than take a ten minute bus ride, I walk.

Although I'm quite out of shape, the escapade grants my wish and brings me to the small cafe at 1:05, just enough time to catch a table and wait the few minutes for Louise to come along. The brief solitude lets me gather my thoughts, and thankfully by the time the older woman sits down in the chair across from me I know what I'm going to say.

"I just need to rant for a bit," I tell her, looking around at the lunch crowd at the tiny outdoor bistro. She says nothing but I see her nod in my peripherals. I wait until the waitress takes our order before I unload my brain.

It takes me a full fifteen minutes to describe the past few weeks with Phil, everything from the first incident where I realized I felt this way to the towel encounter just under an hour ago. I mention how  I only feel this way with Phil, and how its really starting to get bad. Louise politely stays quiet until I'm done, even letting me recover from my venting by eating a few bites of sandwich that came shortly before I ended my speech.

Louise smiles at me in a way that can be described as nothing but maternal, like I'm a daft ten year old she's about to explain the birds and the bees to.

"Sweetie," she begins. "This sounds a lot like jealousy."

Jealousy? I don't really know what I had expected, but jealousy? The thought itself makes me bark out a laugh, but she continues to adorn that soft smile even at my rude reaction. However, she offers no other explanation, beginning to eat her salad even as she eyes me up. I roll my eyes, apparently needing to prepare a counter-argument.

"It's not jealousy, Louise," I say. "I'm not jealous of his sex life, or whatever. I could get some if I wanted to."

I'm fairly certain she chokes on a crouton, coughing into a napkin (which is probably to hide a smirk) before she responds. I narrow my eyes as she takes a sip of her drink with a giggle. When she sets it down again, she puts her elbows on the table and rests her chin in her hands.

"Not of Phil," she explains. "Of his lovers. Like, maybe you want his attention all for yourself."

My eyebrows immediately furrow in confusion. Of Evan, Sebastian, and all the others? Why would I be jealous of them? I mean, I still spend time with Phil. We live with each other, for heaven's sake. Even if I didn't want to I'm forced to interact with him.

Louise must sense my inner conflict, and rips me out of my thoughts by slamming her cup down. I meet her eyes and am taken aback by her fierce expression.

"Look, dumbass. I understand you're doing the whole "oblivious, naïve idiot" act, but it's pretty obvious to me."

She pauses for dramatic effect, but I'm still reeling at the initial sentence. Dumbass? Louise is less motherly than I thought. I pay close attention to her next words, eyeing her up as she continues to speak.

"Did you ever think to wonder," she says slowly, picking her words carefully, "that the only reason you don't like seeing Phil with other guys... is because you like him?"

I roll my eyes and scoff. "That's ridiculous, Louise. I-"

I stop. I think about it. I realize.

"I have a crush on Phil," I say, but it sounds more like a question than a confession. "That's... well, not what I was expecting to figure out."

She rolls her eyes fondly, reaching her hand across and patting my own nicely. "About time, dickwad. This therapy session costs you lunch."

My emotions dizzy me and all I can do is nod in response, zoning out into my own mind. Out of the dozens of solutions I figured might gonna come out of this problem- death, moving out, murder- having a schoolgirl crush on my roommate was not one of them. I sit in a stunned silence for a few minutes, and then Louise talks to me about my sexuality. Turns out, I'm not as straight as I once though. It's quite a shocking discovery and I definitely need time to process. I tell Louise just that, and she understands completely.

"Of course, you just take your time," she says into my shoulder when we hug. "Not too long, though," she continues as she pulls back, giving me an evil eye. "You better talk to Phil about this, or I'll kill you."

I chuckle lightly, even though I know she's extremely serious. I hug her one last time before we part ways, and I opt to walk back to the apartment; I'm going to need quite a while to think about the sudden life changing realization. I've had crushes before, it's just flabbergasting to know that I didn't even realize that this is one of them. To think that I thought that I was homophobic, even though I'm just lovesick- I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Knowing exactly what the feelings are, however, is such a relief; not being able to pinpoint my emotions bothers me more than I care to let on. Plus, it's a good outcome rather than one of the dozens of bad conclusions I had feared. Well, it COULD be a good outcome; what if Phil doesn't like me?

My stomach clenches at the thought- I was so caught up in recognizing my own feelings that I failed to think about Phil's. He used to playfully flirt with me, but he doesn't do it anymore, so what if he doesn't like me at all? 

I'm still stressing about it when I get inside the apartment building, and as I slowly climb the steps a dull terror gnaws in the pit of my stomach. I know I don't need to say anything if I don't want to, but just the thought of seeing Phil terrifies me more than I should. I pretend that my hands aren't shaking when I slip my key into the lock, nervous that I might say something stupid when I finally enter the flat. My worries are unwarranted, however, when I hear banging around in the kitchen. More curious than petrified, I step forward and stick my head in.

Everything is a complete mess. Cabinets are open, flour is littered all across the floor, and dirtiest of them all is my roommate himself, Phil. His face, hands, shirt, and just his upper half in general, are coated in various foods. I take a moment to fondly watch as he wrestles with a spoon stirring a bowl of dough, grunting as if he's doing a great deed. He's angry baking. I've seen this before, usually after a botched date or a dinner with his family. I watch him for a few seconds longer before leaning against the doorway and speaking up.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," I comment. He stiffens and glances at me from over his shoulder. He sets down the bowl before crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

I stare back at him, less hostile but just as intense, until he scores.

"So you're talking to me now?" he bites. I resist the urge to flinch, maintaining my cool composure.

"So it seems," I reply smoothly. I get another scoff in reaction, watching his pale fingers push up his glasses back onto his nose.

"Well, if you don't have anything else to say," he grunts. He leaves the rest of his sentence unfinished, opting instead to turn back towards his work. I bite my lip, pondering how to respond, but end up deciding to do something else. I walk into the kitchen and close the cabinets, then grab a rag to wipe down the counters.

Phil huffs and sets the bowl he was stirring back down, turning to me angrily. "Can you just back off?" he spits venomously.

I flinch this time, but immediately counter back. "I'm just trying to help. Calm down."

He barks out a laugh, but it's far from friendly. "You go from completely ignoring me, to wanting to help? What's going on with you?"

The moment of truth arises. Right in front of me is the opportunity to come clean, to mend our relationship and perhaps further it. I can either choose to take a step forward and be honest, or I can take a step back and perhaps miss my chance. If I don't do this now, I might not have the courage to do it later.

"I...I need to tell you something."

He gives me an unimpressed look and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. I take that as the go ahead to continue, and I clear my throat and prepare to tell him everything.

"Phil, I was talking to Louise about how... weird... things have been between us."

I've never been one to display my emotions on the exterior, but I guarantee I'm turning bright red to match my nervous interior. I take a deep breath and will myself to continue, hopefully for more than one sentence the next time.

"I think I've finally figured things out," I say. I'm glancing up at Phil's eyes to deliver the last line that could make or break our relationship, the statement that could tear apart my world if he rejects. His eyes are flickering between mine, his earlier look of anger replaced with one of confusion and curiosity as he waits for me to speak up again.

Now or never.

"I think I like you."

Silence.

He looks at me in shock- he obviously wasn't expecting that- and then disbelief- he's confused, that's for certain- and finally it settles on anger. He tries to leave the kitchen but I quickly reach out and snatch his wrist.

"I'm not joking," I say softly, trying to hide the hurt in my voice but ultimately failing. I anchor him to me but loosen my grip just slightly, so that he can escape if he truly wants to.

Surprisingly, he doesn't leave; he stays absolutely still and stares out of the doorway, silent as a statue. I shift awkwardly on my feet, wishing to be anywhere, everywhere, other than here. After a minute of complete quiet I back away from him, trying to fight the tears that threaten to spill out of the corners of my eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I-"

I don't get to finish my sentence, my throat choking off the rest of the noise. I look out the window, praying that he leaves and never comes back so I don't have to look at his stupid face and think about my stupid crush and how stupid it was to tell him about it.

"You...you...."

He takes a deep breath in, turns around, and I struggle to look him in the eye.

"You...like me?" Phil finally settles on. I look at him, gauging on whether he's going to get angry or not, before nodding my head just slightly.

Then he laughs. A laugh of disbelief, a laugh that clearly expresses his emotions.

He's mocking me.

I huff, masking my utter humiliation with anger and attempting to storm out of the kitchen. Phil is still laughing as he follows me out.

"Wait. Dan, wait-"

Tears sting my eyes and I almost make it to the door, but he grabs my wrist and twists me around to face him. I attempt to keep my face level, but drops have already begun streaming down my face; the laughter escaping his mouth ceases when he sees this.

"What's wrong?"

He's an idiot. I shake my head and turn to leave again, but he realizes why I'm so upset and tugs me back towards him.

"Dan, I'm not laughing at you-" he scrambles to explain, moving his hand to envelop mine. Disregarding his grip on my hand, I pointedly stare at the floor.

"Look at me."

I ignore him, but Phil simply reaches forward and tilts my chin up. I stare at him- my face controlled now, in a stern gaze- and see that he's now sporting a cautious expression. His hand drops to his side, but the thinks better of it, and reaches forward so that both of our hands are intertwined.

"Dan, I'm sorry, it's just..."

He pauses, obviously looking for the right explanation, and I can already feel myself forgiving him even though he hasn't said much.

I can almost see the lightbulb go off, his eyes focusing on me again as he continues speaking.

"It's funny. You've been a huge dick to me and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. For a while, I thought it was because of my sexuality."

I immediately try to step in to clarify, but he just shushes me and shakes his head before I can get a word out. With a smile, he goes on.

"It's just funny, because I thought you hated me, but as it turns out..."

This time, he looks at me expectantly. I roll my eyes, but reply irregardless.

"I have a crush on you," I mumble, fighting the grin that begins to edge it's way onto my face. He doesn't miss this, and I can already feel a more comfortable atmosphere surrounding us.

"What was that?" he asks, amused. "I didn't quite hear you."

Utterly ridiculous, this man is.

"I said I have a crush on you, moron!"

I'm not expecting it when it happens. One second, I'm teasing him, and the next, our mouths meet. It isn't a hot or passionate kiss, just a sudden smash of the lips, but it's perfect.

The kiss is... us.

His hands move up to my face as he pulls back, wiping my tears away with his thumb, a gentle smile teasing his lips. 

"So what now?" I ask, softly. He contorts his face into a thoughtful expression, then a mischievous one as his hands drop back down to mine.

"I was thinking we could make out on the couch."

Plot twist: it turns out I don't have any problem with Phil kissing guys if it's me he's kissing.


End file.
